Nightmares
by Yoyi-Yi
Summary: Col. Young has nightmares. He can't come out from them. He needs to sleep, but he is afraid of them. What if they become real? WARNINGS: Mention of Necrophilia, dead of one character several times by the hands of the other. Nightmares in a loop. Not knowing if what's happening is real or not. Death of more several people. Not recomended to underaged. Violence.


**Notes**:

Without beta.** Bad** English.

I mixed present verbs with past verbs on purpose. I might have lot's of mistakes. Sorry about that.

Please, _be careful_ reading this fic because it's **very dark.** As I warned in the summary, there's one character killed several times, necrophilia and mention of necrophilia.

I recommend you not to read this if this is disgusting to you. But if you still want to read, please, be careful and stop whenever you feel like you can't continue.

* * *

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* * *

He could... He could not... It wasn't happening. It was a joke. But the softness under his fingertips was not an hallucination. It was not. But this cannot be happening, he thought. Sharp edges under the softness. Bones. It was cold.

_Why...?_

He was in his quarters. On his bed. Over someone. He was tracing that one's body. It was soft. It had sharp edges. It was cold. It was...

_Why was...?_

This could not be happening. He was mad. He had gone mad. He must... This could not...

_Why was Rush...?_

Not thinking. He was not thinking. He was not breathing. He was not warm. He was not... alive. But his eyes were open and he was looking at the ceiling. Right? But he was soft, and he did not escaped from his touch. He did not complain. He was silent. He was soft. His skin was soft and cold. Sharp edges.

_Why was Rush's corpse in his bed?_

Did he ate at all? He was so skinny. He inhaled. He kissed.

"_Young... stop! You are hurting me!_" he whispered, mimicking his voice, slightly mockingly. Yes. He remembers now.

Rush came, they fought and he wanted more. Rush ignited the flame within him. Rush was weak. He had bruises on his wrists where he had held him, bruises so notorious now that his skin was so pale. But the most standing ones...

"The neck." He traced the marks. His hands where there for ever. "_Please Young, stop it, you are frightening me. No..._" He chuckles. "Now you can't say no. You will agree, because if you don't oppose you agree."

He was so cold. Frozen.

_Why was Rush's corpse in his bed?_

A scream in the night. He was awoken by his own scream. His heart hammering inside his rib cage. Sweat. Hot, but then cold. He looks around, afraid. Rush is not in his bed. And most surely not in his quarters. His breath uneven. He couldn't think straight.

Wearing only his underpants and a t-shirt he runs to the bridge, where, if he is not mistaken, Rush should be.

He finds him there. Breathing, warm, thinking, opposing to him. _Alive_. Rush looks at him, frowning. Young takes his arms and examine his wrists. Then, puts away his long hair, searching, looking for the marks on his neck. He has none.

"What the hell...?"

"I am so sorry," and starts crying, enclosing Rush into a tight embrace. "You are not dead. Not dead. Not dead."

"What's wrong with you?" Rush sounds genuine worried.

"Night..."

"...mare" interrupts him. Then, the best he can, he hugs back.

* * *

He watched his profile. With a finger he traced it. Beautiful. His skin was so pale. His body was... _not_... warm.

"I prefer you like this." Or does he? But like this he can trace the nose, and the lips and go down, down, down, and he won't say anything. He will let him.

Over the white skin he can see his own fingermarks over the hips. He didn't want it at first, but now he likes it. He does not move. And as time goes he grows more rigid. But it's ok. He prefers him like this.

It was hard at first. But after a few pushes he can push now again and again and again. Inside him. It's cold but he likes it. It gets harder to move his legs each new time. But he still can do it. Between his legs. In his body. _Cold_.

"_What are you doing? Are you nuts?_" He discovered recently that he is good at imitating others voices. Especially his. "_Stop! Let me go. Please, let me go._"

He laughed. He wanted him, again. He kissed the soft, cold skin. His bones were biting the skin. Did he not eat?

He licks him. He lets him do it this time. Before he didn't. Why is this happening? This could not be happening at all. This is a joke. A bad joke.

And when he waked up this time, there was someone at his side.

"Do you need something?"

A nurse?

"No."

"Ok. You should go back to sleep. Your fever got higher."

Why is there a nurse? He does not need... Fever? Oh! Nightmare. Again. Why did Rush keep coming back to his dreams? _Why was Rush's corpse in his bed?_

"You fainted in the bridge. Rush called. He even volunteered to carry you here."

He looks around. He found him sleeping. He had a blanket. His chest rose from time to time. His skin was not white. He should be warm.

"He is just sleeping. I made him stay. He needs to eat some more. Camile took his shift. You passed your illness to him. Don't worry, just a cold."

But he does not get back to sleep. He can't, and he knows. Because if he does, Rush's corpse will come again to his bed. And he can't stand it. It's coldness, inactivity. _But it was soft. With sharp edges. Bones._

No!

TJ. She disappeared. Maybe she went to the rest room? He got to his feet and approached Rush's bed. His face was so relaxed. He looked at his profile. He traced his nose with feather like touch. Rush shifted. He put his hand on his neck. The heat and the pulse. He only needed to press there, just a little, and everything will end. No more nightmares.

Rush jolts awake but he cannot oppose him. He will not oppose him, ever, again. He covers his mouth with the other hand. A little more fight, but he can't fight him. He can't. Hours pass. He climbs to Rush's bed. He is cold, and soft and relaxed. He is sleeping. Or dead. It does not matter now, because he is so soft under his fingertips.

And now he is the one waking. He can hear his own heart hammering so hard. It hurts.

It did not happened. Rush was alive. He did not killed him. Because he did not feel aroused by the possibility of controlling a motionless body. Lifeless body. A corpse. He didn't feel...

_This is a joke! Why is Rush's corpse in my bed? Did I kill him? Did I not kill him?_

"You are having nightmares," says the corpse. He can see all the teeth by now, and he has no eyelids. But he is beautiful. He wants to kiss him. Does he?

More and more nightmares. All about the same. He kills Rush, and waits until he is cold and then he can do whatever he wants with him. But. He.

What is that what he really wants? Does he wants Rush cold? Does he wants Rush warm?

But there was a question he didn't want to find an answer. _Why do I want Rush?_

He is in a loop. He can't come out from that loop. He does not know what is real and what is dream. He wants to ask Rush, but he is afraid. What if he ends up killing the real one and not some from his nightmare?

* * *

Weeks later he still wasn't able to talk with Rush alone. Nightmares where gone, but he still could remember them. He didn't like it, but he couldn't help it. It was late, and he had to check some documents. Work was piling up again. What a pain. A faint knock on his door made him look at the hour. _This late?_, he thought.

"Come in." And Young wished he had feigned he was asleep already, because it was Rush, and they were alone in his quarters, and he still felt fear. "What is it?"

"I need to borrow some soldiers to accompany a recognition party for the day after tomorrow. We found something that looks like a factory and maybe there will be some instruments that will be helpful. Also, there was..."

He lost trace of what was Rush saying. He couldn't focus on his words, lost in his accent, the movement of his lips, the way he stood, how he waved his arms.

Faster than in his nightmares he had Rush pinned against his bed, strangling him. Of course, Rush fought him. And of course, he shook him up. Rush coughed, with a hand on his neck. Young was looking at that, breathing fast. Faster than ever.

"This is not happening. This is a joke. I did not... This is _not_ happening."

"What...?"

"Get out," Young said, still on the floor, not daring to move.

"What did I do...?"

"_GET_ out," he shouted. Rush complied. They both were shocked.

Minutes passed. He got up. His hands still shaking.

A laughter filled the room. The laughter of a mad man.

"_Why is Rush's corpse in my bed?_" he sang. "_Because I killed him. Why did I kill the man? Because I want his corpse in my bed. He did not come alive, he came dead. Why is Rush's corpse in my bed?_"

He repeated it, again and again. "His neck is so frail. His neck is so frail. His neck is so... _warm,_" he recited then. Nightmares chasing him, now, weeks later. He should sleep more. "I prefer you warm. I prefer you _alive_."

_Why was Rush's corpse in his bed?_ Because he wanted to fuck him. But Rush didn't want to be fucked. In fact, he was sure Rush didn't want to have, talk nor think about sex. Not after losing yet again his lover. _Why do I want to lie with him in bed?_

That night he dreamed again with killing Rush. His desire of keeping him and killing him. From where did that killing desire came? He wasn't sure. He needed to understand to stop it before he ended up killing him for real.

Rush did not talked with him next day, not the following. TJ, on the other hand, came to him. She was worried. He told her about his nightmares. She looked at him, horrified. She was trembling when he finished. And he told her about the assault. He told her about how he felt when he had Rush's neck in his hands. She got up and was gone in a heart beat.

But she came back, followed by Scott and Greer. They escorted him to a cell. He was locked up. And the room was filled again with that dreadful laughter. And with the song. And he hit the walls, the door, he yelled he wanted Rush there with him. He scratched the walls until he broke his nails. Weird, he did not felt the pain.

"No... Nonononono... Is this another nightmare?"

"It is, and it is not. You are losing your mind," a voice said.

"Who are you?"

"The one messing up your mind. I want to break it. It's quite difficult." It was a cheerful tone.

"And why do you want that?"

"Because you should not lay a finger on him."

"Who?"

"Nicholas."

"I didn't... You were the one who put those thoughts in my head!" he accused.

"Maybe... It was an experiment. I thought this way you would let him be. But you wanted more. And now..."

He woke up. He was feeling pretty tired of these fucked up nightmares. He knew in time he wouldn't recognise reality from hallucinations. He pressed his hand to his eyes.

"Stop it, stop it, stop it. DAMN!"

So... he desired Rush because this... someone, whomever he or she was wanted him to like the man so he would let him be and now he was having nightmares about killing the man and about having nightmares.

"This is a fucking joke. Right?"

He decided to tell this to someone. Not to TJ, she would surely lock him up, like in his dream. But to someone who might be able to stop that.

And Rush looked at him, certainly, the same way TJ did in his dream. But he was slightly more afraid. He even got away... put space between them. And a chair. Just in case, was screaming his face.

"I will assume you want me to monitor that and stop the intrusion." Young nodded, happy that Rush was smart. "Do you really feel like fucking with _me_?" A smart-ass.

"Rush, focus."

"Aye. That's just... Frightening. I don't know if I'll be able to sleep now. Having you lurking..."

"_Rush_, focus."

Yeah, definitely a smart-ass.

Rush raised his eyebrows. "Okay, I'll take a look." He paused before continuing. Young feared what he was about to ask. "Do you have any idea of whom could it be?"

He let out a sigh of relief. "No. But I don't think it's _Destiny_'s AI, nor Dr. Perry or Ginn. I don't think they could be this... cruel."

"Aye... Me neither."

He left. Rush did not move until he was gone. Young felt Rush stare on the back of his neck all the way. Funny.

Nope, not funny.

* * *

He was going to sit in the interface chair. Shit. He didn't want to. But Rush said that it was necessary, because it seemed like he had a parasite inside his brain. And he could try to fry the bitch with the chair. But if he got the tiniest of his calculus wrong he could fry his brain as well. The other option was letting TJ to open his skull and rummage until she found it and killing it.

Though he didn't like that option -to have one's brain out in the air? Ug!- he preferred the body to be removed. But Rush assured him that the electro-shock would make it disappear.

"It seems like you got it some planets away, when you fell on that cave. You must have inhaled it and then it roamed until it found your brain."

"But why...?"

"I don't know. Maybe you like me, and it liked me then. Maybe it's only a destructive parasite."

Young was positively chained to the chair -even when that thing had it's own chains they tied him to it. Just in case-, and he could not raise his hands. Eli came, and TJ came, and Chloe came, and Scott, and Camile and Greer.

The all came. Rush told them he had some parasite and the best way to get it out -or kill it- was with the chair. They all wanted to help. But he wasn't sure they would be so eager if they knew how he felt right now about having Rush's neck in his hands. He wanted it. He _needed_ it. Young looked down and saw his hands were closed into fists.

He hoped, he hoped he wouldn't want it anymore after this. He closed his eyes. Rush and Eli and Chloe and even Brody started to talk about things he didn't comprehend. And then, the chair came to life. He trembled. He sighed. He...

...woke up. His temples hurt, his eyes hurt, his mouth tasted wrong, his body felt funny. When he opened his eyes he saw something in front of him. Shapeless.

"Please don't..."

But it could not end. It was dead. It fell to the floor. At his feet. Young wanted to kick it. But he didn't move. Rush said that if he had any kind of vision he absolutely should-not-move. So he didn't move. He raised his head again and almost moved, surprised. He was in his quarters. And...

"No... oh, no... No!"

_Why was Rush's corpse still in his bed?_

"Please, stop... Please, finish it. Make it stop. Please, please." He closed his eyes again.

* * *

"...ould woke up."

"Mngh..."

Voices. Voices going quiet. He managed another sound and someone was at his side, giving him water. Lot of voices coming then. Too much questions. He didn't understand any.

"Where...?"

"The infirmary. You have been here for almost four days. We thought..."

"Yeah... What... happ...?"

"Rush was right. It would have been suicidal to try to remove it with surgery. It was entangled with your brain. He managed the electricity from the chair to make it disentangle, then he killed it. Your body should have expelled it by now. How are you feeling?"

"Ti...red..." He closed his eyes. And slept.

This time he didn't dreamt at all. No nightmares. Bliss.

He woke up. He was alone. No, TJ was in her office, near. She was doing something, bent over papers. He could see her from his bed. He looked at his other side. He found Rush.

Rush was standing, leaning on the edge of a bed, arms folded over his chest, watching him. He had a strange look in his eyes. He nodded. Rush nodded.

He sit up, with some effort. His head hurt.

"How are you feeling now? More nightmares? Any... strange desire?"

He thought about it. How did he felt?

"Better. I have a dreamless sleep. And as far as I know, I don't have any kind of desire, besides drinking more water." His voice was hoarse. Why? He didn't remember screaming. He frowned.

"You yelled. In your sleep," said Rush.

"I don't..."

"I suppose you don't. Well, maybe it's a side effect. Don't worry, it'll get better." Rush straightened. Maybe he was going.

"Thanks."

Rush nodded and left. And he fell asleep again.

* * *

He woke up. In his bed this time. He was trembling, cold sweat on his back, going down his forehead, pain in his throat. He had been screaming again. Why?

A flash of memories came. Oh God. He remembered. He still had those dreams. He just... woke up without remembering... Until now. This was... This was bad. Really bad. He looked around and found, startled, Rush standing there, next to his desk.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm afraid, colonel, that there is only one way to ending your nightmares,"he said, approaching, undressing.

"No. Don't come near me!" Young retreated, he got out of his bed. He collided with the wall.

But Rush did not stop until he was right beside him. When he was in the same state of undress as him he put a hand on his shoulder.

"Come to bed, let's end it."

Young shook his head. He did not move even a millimetre. Rush put then his other hand on his other shoulder.

"You still have nightmares, and even you might be having night terrors. You will feel relieved if I'm here, alive and you can feel it right after a nightmare. This might ease your stress, colonel."

"You... you don't know that. What about you not being able to sleep because I was lurking...?"

"Stop thinking about it. You need to sleep or you will go insane!"

"I AM insane," he yelled. But Rush did not pull back, he held him firmly. He had strong hands! He could, he was strong. He could defend himself, right? He could.

"You may don't believe me, but since the past few weeks you have been worsening. You are underweight, you haven't done any exercise, you couldn't sleep well, and you did not eat when you should. Look at you, for fuck sake!"

Ma... maybe Rush was right. He couldn't shake him up, and he should have been able to do it by now. He looked at their arms. Rush were slim but firm, his muscles looked good. And his own... they looked bad. He nodded. He agreed to sleep with him in his bed.

"I... hope... I won't..."

"You won't," reassured Rush.

They got in the bed. Young couldn't help himself and hugged Rush by his waist. Rush didn't complained. He was so _warm_.

Young opened his eyes. He had something warm in his arms. It's breathing. Rush. Rush is alive. In his arms. His throat... doesn't hurt.

He kissed Rush. Rush woke up. Rush tried to get away. He wanted Rush to stay. They fought. Rush hit his head. Blood.

_Why was Rush bleeding in his room?_

"Rush?"

_Why was Rush lying motionless on his floor?_

"Rush, wake up."

_Why was Rush's corpse in his room?_

"Rush... this is not funny. Wake up!"

_Why was Rush's corpse in his room?_

"Talk to me. Why won't you talk!?"

_Why was Rush's corpse in his room?_

"Please, talk to me! You are not dead."

_Why was Rush dead?_

"Rush you are freaking me out. Please!"

_Who killed Rush?_

"You, you did it. You should... I told you. This is your fault! Not mine!"

_Why was Rush's corpse looking at him?_

"Stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it!"

* * *

"...ng. Young! EVERETT!"

"Ah!"

He was in his room. Rush was shaking him, his face hurt. Rush was breathing fast. His chest was moving. There was no blood.

"It's only a dream!"

"Fuck..." he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"I... have never had such a long and strange nightmare in my whole life."

Rush chuckled. "Want to tell me?"

"Ah... too long. I killed you and had sex with your corpse. And then there was a parasite. You tried to take it out..."

"Me or my corpse?" Rush sounded amused.

"Don't laugh at it! You jackass. It was terrifying. I even kissed your lipless mummy."

Rush chuckled again. "Sorry, continue."

"Then I had nightmares about killing you and having sex with your corpse, and night terrors. You tried to help me by sleeping in the same bed. After that I woke up and kissed you and you fought me and you hit your head with and edge and there was lot's of blood."

He sighed, shivering. Rush hugged him.

"It's okay, it was only a nightmare. I'm here."

"Yeah, thanks you, Nicholas." He hugged back, feeling better.

Young pulled a cover, Rush was cold. Ah! There was a stain in the sheet. Tomorrow he should put it away. And he should remember to recommend Rush to go to Chloe's yoga classes, he was a bit rigid.

_**Two months before**_.

They all woke up from stasis. There was something wrong. Lot's of systems were on max alert. Some members of the crew were already dead. Rush and Eli were trying to correct programs. TJ and some volunteers were attending the wounded.

By the end of the day, they were less than twelve people alive. He couldn't take it. They wouldn't make it to the next galaxy. He took his pistol and killed the others. But not Rush, not him. He ran. He ran away. His life was on the stake.

He hunt Rush for days, until he found him.

"Stop fighting me."

"You are mad! You killed them all!"

He had some burns on his face. His clothes were shattered. Even from there, Young could see the sharp edges his bones made in his skin.

"This is better than dying from starvation." He pointed, Rush pleaded.

One shot in the dark. He was alone.

"Rush? Are you still here?" No response.

He took the corpse and went to his quarters. He put Rush in his bed and covered him. The blankets were dirtied by the blood. He lied beside him.

"This is better."

_Destiny_ continued her journey. Silently. Pacefully.

* * *

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* * *

**End Notes**:

I had to write this. It was haunting me. I didn't know I was capable of doing it. In the end I didn't know if I should keep him alive and continue torturing Young or killing Rush for good.

This was **a challenge to myself**.

In the end, they are _all_ dead.


End file.
